


The Old Maid Remix

by Cryptographic_Delurk



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Card Games, Gen, Mid-Canon, Political Alliances, headcanons, somewhat cynical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 21:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16563062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryptographic_Delurk/pseuds/Cryptographic_Delurk
Summary: While on Van der Via Island, Josak and Wolfram spend some idle time playing cards and talking politics. And, having grown up the son of their previous Maou, when has Wolfram’s personal life not been steeped in politics?





	The Old Maid Remix

“If you’re that bored, Your Excellency.” Gurrier held the deck of playing cards up in his palm. He smiled easily, indulgently.

Josak Gurrier was a half breed but, well, undoubtedly an important one. Perhaps not so important as Yuuri or Conrart, but important enough to know things about Wolfram’s brothers that Wolfram himself didn’t know. Which meant Gurrier was important enough to warrant an hour spent splitting cards with, putting out feelers.

It wasn’t as if Wolfram could sink much lower anyhow. On a voyage to Van der Via, alone with three half Mazoku. And he’d spent most of the trip trying not to vomit from seasickness. Desperate times, desperate measures.

Wolfram dragged himself across the room to sit at the round table provided in their room at the inn. The armchair was a plush olive green and he stretched to sit up straight in it, as Gurrier shuffled the cards, then offered them to Wolfram to cut, then dealt.

The Queen of Diamonds had been removed from play and sat lonely to the side.

Gurrier would allow him to make the first draw, of course, it was only natural. Without looking, Wolfram reached up to pick a card from where they were fanned out in Gurrier’s palm. It was the Eight of Hearts, and Wolfram worked hard not to grimace as he matched it with the Eight of Diamonds and set it down. Eight was an unlucky number – with a loop like insanity – but Gurrier was apparently not a superstitious man, because he didn’t comment on this being Wolfram’s first real play in the game. He reached to take a card from Wolfram’s hand, smiling wider as Wolfram held his face in a vacant frown.

Why was Gurrier bothering to make a show of which card he picked? They both knew Wolfram wasn’t the one with the winning card.

(At least not in this arena.)

They spent a few turns simply exchanging banal cards – threes and fives and fours. If Gurrier was a master spy with a master poker face, he didn’t bother employing his skills. He made exaggerated smiles and frowns and comical choking noises at random as Wolfram tried to decide which one to draw. And he didn’t seem deterred when Wolfram refused to find amusement in the performance.

Wolfram tapped his foot impatiently against the floor. He didn’t have to fake his boredom and impatience, as he decided what his opening line to Gurrier would be.

“Do you think they’ll come back soon? His Majesty and Conrart?”

“I wonder… who can say,” Gurrier shrugged, studying Wolfram’s line of cards.

Wolfram nodded shortly. “And do you think they’ll find anything? Find a way to activate the Demon Sword?”

“I doubt it. Not unless His Highness gets a lot more serious about this,” Gurrier said mildly.

“You think Yuuri isn’t serious?” Wolfram placed down a pair of black twos.

“He’s about as serious a king who has never seen someone die on the battlefield can be,” Gurrier said sweetly.

Wolfram frowned, but let it pass. No doubt Gurrier knew that Wolfram had been on the shortlist for possible Maou candidates, and intended it as a perceived slight on his hypothetical fitness for the position. But even if he had been too young to participate in full during the last war, Wolfram was a soldier with his own regiment of troops. And, at an even younger age, Wolfram had seen his own father shrivel from illness and die, lying in bed. You didn’t grow up Lady Cäcilie’s child without learning that a bed could be its own battlefield.

(Something that Wolfram was apparently taking to heart – Shinou help him – he remembered the nightgown and bathrobe he’d packed into his bag. Although he supposed, between his parents, he had taken after the right one.)

“Regardless, you seem rather content for someone who doubts this mission is going anywhere serious…” Wolfram prodded vaguely.

Gurrier coughed into the palm that wasn’t holding his cards. “Well, Big Sister Josak didn’t say that, exactly…” he admitted bashfully.

“Then My Honourable Elder Brother did believe something would come of this?” Wolfram pressed. “He did believe that Yuuri would bring something worthwhile back. And here I thought he didn’t care about His Majesty~”

This wasn’t expressly true. If Gwendal hadn’t cared, he would have left the capital and headed back to the Voltaire territories directly after Yuuri’s coronation. Gwendal just didn’t believe that best way to manipulate someone involved pretending to get along with them. His loss.

“What do you mean?” Gurrier smiled slyly. “I think Lord Weller has made it clear he believed in His Majesty from the start.”

“You know that’s not the brother I mean.” Wolfram huffed.

Gurrier talked over him. “Yup, even if he has to wear that fake ass smile for the rest of his life, the Commander’s made it perfectly clear that he’s gonna follow His Majesty to the bitter end...” Gurrier was also wearing the fakest smile. “And you, Your Excellency? Are you on His Majesty’s side until the bitter end too?”

Wolfram wasn’t sure if his arm tremored, if his cards shook. “Of- Of course not,” he reassured. _Dammit, he could hear where his voice had caught. But he wasn’t. He_ wasn’t- _!_

Gurrier seemed pleased with himself, for having made Wolfram stumble. But then Wolfram tugged at a card in his hand. Although Gurrier’s face didn’t change, Wolfram could feel Gurrier press his thumb instinctively against it, trying to prevent it from escaping. And then smiling privately, at his own foolishness, before relenting.

Wolfram cackled as he pulled the Queen of Hearts into his own hand. He took a moment to shuffle his hand, before fanning it back out for Gurrier to pick a card from.

“Then you don’t know what Conrart’s motivation in all of this is?” Wolfram asked.

It was strange just because there was a reason for everyone else to be so invested. The interests of so many factions and territories represented in the capital. How many of the Ten Aristocratic families had gathered around Yuuri?

von Voltaire.

von Christ.

It was hard to say if Anissina was looking after the von Karbelnikoff interest. She might be reporting back to Densham. But it was just as likely that Densham was an idiot with chicken feathers for brains, and Anissina had reached some kind of agreement with Gwendal. The less Wolfram knew about his elder brother’s relationship with her, the better.

And Mother… He’d include her connection to Spitzweg in the mix, but there was no way Mother was cooperating with Stoffel anymore. If anything, Mother had introduced herself to Yuuri and seen to his coronation just to make sure she had rid herself of responsibilities completely, before escaping on her cruise. She hadn’t been able to get out of there fast enough.

And then, of course, there was von Bielefeld.

But Lord Conrart Weller didn’t have a noble family to uphold – neither a place, nor a people to protect. Not recently, at least.

“Haven’t got a clue,” Gurrier said as he gathered the last pair of sevens together. “Being old Rutenberg buddies doesn’t count for much, apparently. That guy never shares anything with me anymore… I think His Excellency von Christ, or Lady Ulrike, might have some idea what Conrart is up to. But His Excellency Gwendal has never cared to follow up. I think he’s avoiding both of them as a matter of fact.”

That made sense given Ulrike was notoriously tight-lipped, and encloistered where men were disallowed. And Günter was, well, Günter. Gisela had an in with both of them though, and Wolfram had an in with her. He made a mental note to ask her about it later.

“Then Gwendal trusts Conrart not to do anything drastically outside his interests, even without any assurance?” Wolfram asked.

“Mmm, I don’t know about that,” Gurrier hummed. “But the Commander is his little brother so... You’ll understand yourself when Lady Celi remarries and gives you your own little sibling~” Gurrier ignored Wolfram’s cry of protest. “I know I don’t trust him though,” he continued more seriously. “Underneath it all, Conrart hasn’t changed all that much since Julia died. Since Lord Weller Senior died. He’s desperate and reckless – things a king’s right hand shouldn’t be.”

Wolfram felt a surge of fire in his gut. He had the feeling Gurrier was taking shots at him again. But, even putting that aside, there was Conrart: Who was Gurrier to so overtly question his elder brother’s loyalty, when even Gwendal and Wolfram refrained? When Gurrier was just a half-Mazoku, and common born at that? When Gurrier hadn’t even grown up in Shin Makoku proper?

“But Gwendal trusts _you_?” Wolfram sneered, as he snatched a card from Gurrier’s hand. The Nine of Hearts was like crisp kindling in his hand. He wished he wasn’t here in human lands, where his Majutsu couldn’t swarm and burn. “Who’s to say you won’t run back to Shimaron with everything you’ve learned here?”

“That just goes to show how little you know me, Your Excellency,” Gurrier’s smile turned pointedly ugly. “Or maybe you’re just attempting to be cruel – if you really believed me to be that lacking in loyalty, little princeling, you’d probably try harder to not say things that make me want to cut you in half. Especially not in a foreign land where you can’t even retaliate with magic~”

The threat sat unevenly between them. But eventually Gurrier sighed and put on a more serious face.

“I would never betray Shin Makoku,” he said, clear and biting. “If I didn’t when Stoffel was acting as regent, I certainly won’t so long as Gwendal is.”

“Gwendal hasn’t officially been appointed regent,” Wolfram said nebulously.

“No,” Gurrier agreed.

 _And yet- who is the one writing and signing policy out of Blood Pledge Castle?_ went unsaid. Gwendal had worked hard to wrest the regency out of Uncle Stoffel’s hands. He wasn’t ecstatic about having to hand it right back, after ten short years and the appointment of a new and green Maou.

“And if Yuuri tried to revoke my Honourable Elder Brother’s unofficial appointment, and started playing a bigger role in the governing of Shin Makoku – where would your allegiance be then, Spy Gurrier?”

“Still not with Shimaron, I’m afraid~” Gurrier tisked. “But, I wonder… Doesn’t that depend on you, Your Excellency? Let’s see how much you can whip your fiancé into shape, before that day comes, hmm?” Gurrier let out an unseemly giggle.

“Don’t be crude,” Wolfram tisked, as he drew the Three of Clubs.

“You know, forget about Conrart for a moment, it’s entirely likely that you’re the most volatilely important person in this equation,” Gurrier said with sudden gravity. He clasped his hand of cards together and shuffled it precisely. “If Gwendal’s attempts to hold onto the regency end up antagonising His Majesty too much, and his position is compromised, you’re one of the only people with an established independent influence over His Majesty… It’s perhaps lucky that yours and Lord Waltorana’s interests line up so much with von Voltaire’s and von Karbelnikoff’s, since all your lands are near the coast.”

And there was the confirmation that Gwendal had cut a deal with either Anissina or Densham. Although it scarcely seemed needed in retrospect, it had been so obvious. All the same, Wolfram was careful not to emote.

Gurrier was listing off relevant bits of shared political interest. “Keeping tariffs down on maritime trade routes, increasing naval security along the coast to preempt invasion by sea, encouraging travel…” he nodded safely. “So long as His Excellency Gwendal is willing to count your position as His Majesty’s fiancé as insurance towards his own interests, things get to stay peaceful between you two brothers. Isn’t that nice?”

“Gwendal was the one who didn’t want me to go on this voyage to Van der Via…”

“And he’s also the one that didn’t stop you.” Gurrier pointed out. Wolfram watched as Gurrier drew the card in his hand sitting directly left of the Queen of Hearts. “No doubt he has reservations, seeing as it’s his baby brother’s safety and chastity that’s on the line-”

Wolfram snorted at the idea of chastity.

“But even he can’t deny that your plan is brilliant,”  Gurrier continued. “I mean- _I_ certainly think it’s brilliant, Your Excellency~”

Wolfram tried hard not to preen. Gurrier was only trying to flatter him but… It really was brilliant, wasn’t it?

For what had been a completely unexpected and humiliating turn of events in His Majesty’s sudden proposal, Wolfram really had managed to turn the tables, and turn this engagement into a golden opportunity.

A ready-made excuse to be at the King’s side at all times.

And even when he wasn’t, all he had to do was fling out the word ‘cheater’ and some well-deserved frustration, and suddenly His Majesty was blabbering out a full account of everything that had happened in Wolfram’s absence: emissaries from Cavalcade, dancing with Conrart, _I wasn’t cheating! What does cheating even have to do with anything, Wolf?!_

And His Majesty had even started coming to Wolfram for information and counsel. He really was hopeless and unlearnt – without even the barest idea of the physical or social landscape, both inside and outside of Shin Makoku. And not a clue who any of their allies and enemies were, or the relationships between them. But he was asking Wolfram to fill him in on the details, and Wolfram had the power to decide just how these stories got told – with what spin, at what starting point, with what conclusion – and who, along the way, they would paint favourably or unfavourably. And this was a benefit and position that Günter had traded land and money and favours for – for the honour of being His Majesty’s royal tutor. And yet he squandered it by being long winded and high handed in his lectures, and lost the Maou’s interest. And here Wolfram had managed to acquire the same favour as a mere perk of his position as fiancé, and use it far more effectively besides.

Yes, Wolfram certainly had the King’s ear.

Only…

He only regretted-

“You really are like a prince out of a fairy tale,” Yuuri was studying his face closely, after they had returned from the conflict at the border. “Your eyelashes are so long… and pale too…” He absentmindedly lifted his finger and brushed it in front of Wolfram’s eye, against the lashes.

Günter had said something after that. Or Conrart. Or maybe it had been Wolfram’s Honourable Elder Brother, Gwendal.  It almost didn’t matter for the way Yuuri’s attention pulled away, and Wolfram was left sitting dumbfounded by the feeling of affection that welled within him.

Or when they had hidden in the closet of the ship, when the pirates came. The way Yuuri calmed when Wolfram reached to take his hand. The way he had gotten worked up again, and tugged on the sleeve of Wolfram’s bathrobe, when he realised Wolfram was ready to buy the Maou’s trust with his life.

“Stop! Wolf, stop! There’s too many of them! You’ll get hurt!”

Or how about Yuuri making it abundantly clear, for about the hundredth time, that he was raised amongst a bunch of barbaric and uncultured humans with backwards and philistine ideas about same-sex relationships. He hadn’t _meant_ to propose to Wolfram. The slap had been a _mistake_. And even if it would be an insult to the von Bielefeld family for him to withdraw the proposal himself, he wouldn’t be offended if Wolfram rejected him instead. Please.

And there had been a hundred different answers on the tip of Wolfram’s tongue. _How do you think public opinion of Shin Makoku’s Maou would change, if he was rejected by one of the members of his vassal states?_ or _I’ll take that under consideration, after an appropriately long provisional period has passed._ Or even if he claimed that it was against Shin Makoku tradition to call off a proposal without going through the appropriately deadly pro-nullification obstacle course, which included fighting a Hell’s Paradise Goala barehanded. Shinou help them, Yuuri was such an obvious fish out of water, he probably would have believed anything that Wolfram said about the culture. He could have said anything – _anything_ – just so long as it bought the extra time Wolfram needed to curry favour with the Maou and assure the financial and military interests of the Bielefeld territories were secure.

But instead his throat seized up completely. Yuuri was looking at him so kindly and guilelessly. And Wolfram felt his heart sink into his stomach. After all the times he’d been pursued by creepy old men, fawning women, Elisabet even-

Was this what rejection felt like? It was _horrible_. Just _awful_.

Wolfram had stormed off and locked himself in the inn’s closet. And even though Yuuri banged on the door and called for him to come out, he curled in on himself, told the Maou to shut up, and refused to move. Because that’s how Wolfram was apparently spending all his time nowadays… hiding in closets…

…But even that wasn’t worthy of regret.

Wolfram only regretted that he was beginning to understand why his mother had returned to Lord Dan Healey Weller’s side, after Wolfram’s father had passed. After she had already once realised the futility and foolishness of giving her time and favour to a common born human, and left him.

“If we’re in agreement,” Gurrier twirled the Jack of Clubs he had drawn from Wolfram’s hand in a circle. “I’d like to run my next plan by Your Excellency, and request your cooperation.”

Wolfram watched Gurrier spun the card. He spoke when Gurrier finally lowered it into his hand, and matched it with its counterpart. “Go on.”

“If His Majesty is successful in wielding The Demon Sword Morgif, there is a good chance that it will increase his prestige, his subjects’ loyalty in the current ruling class and, additionally, provide a successful method by which to intimidate our enemies and discourage them from going on the offensive. So the successful completion of this mission would be, if not entirely necessary, extremely favourable to the current political climate. His Excellency von Voltaire recognises this, even if he’d rather not bank his hopes on it.”

Wolfram nodded. Gurrier wasn’t saying anything they didn’t both know.

Gurrier continued. “And, although His Excellency von Christ’s notebooks are written in vague and flowery language, I believe myself, your Excellency, and the Commander – whether he’d like to admit it or not – are all in agreement that His Majesty will have to slay someone by that sword in order to activate its powers.”

“…Yes,” Wolfram said measuredly. The hope had been they might be able to acquire a human soul via another method, so as to ease Yuuri’s conscience. But it was foolish to pretend that a sword wasn’t a weapon meant to take lives, and that The Demon Sword Morgif wasn’t meant to absorb the powers of those it slayed itself.

Gurrier smiled slyly as Wolfram drew the second to last card from Gurrier’s hand – Ace of Spades.

“Then this plan to visit the local hospital…”

“Yes, Gurrier,” Wolfram said impatiently. “It’s likely to end in disappointment. I believe we both know that. But it might be best for His Majesty to see for himself that there are no shortcuts, that we are waging a conflict where lives are at stake.”

“Then I have a different plan, for when this first one fails,” Gurrier announced. “The humans here in Van der Via are _much_ more barbarous than those who grew up in the vicinity of Shin Makoku.” He chuckled and gave a challenging grin, when Wolfram narrowed his eyes. “There’s a local Colosseo in town where they hold death matches for the entertainment of the public. It’s mostly used for executing prisoners, but they do accept applications from beautiful young men who wish to compete for money... It might be a good opportunity to test out the powers of The Demon Sword, if we can convince His Majesty to compete…”

Wolfram snorted. “You don’t know Yuuri very well if you think he’d agree to participate.”

“Oh, but I believe I do,” Gurrier smiled. “He might not participate knowingly, but I think with a bit of deceit and the agreement of Your Excellency, he might trust our guidance enough to stumble into the arena unknowingly.”

“You… want to deceive our Maou, and have him walk into a death match unknowingly? For the sake of ensuring both yours and Lord von Voltaire’s political goals?” Wolfram leaned forward in his seat. “You know that more or less amounts to treason?”

Gurrier seemed unfazed. “Well, I didn’t think someone as shrewd as Your Excellency would be criticising me~”

A smile was starting to curl at the edges of Wolfram’s lips, but he hesitated. “If-” _Yuuri-_ “If His Majesty were to get hurt… If he was outmatched…”

“We would step in, of course,” Gurrier reassured. Although Wolfram wondered if he was only saying what he knew Wolfram wanted to hear. “But, c’mon, you’ve seen what the kiddo can do. Even in human territory steeped in Holy Power, his Majutsu is this powerful…”

Yes, Wolfram decided, it was. And he’d be at the front of the arena to swoop in and save Yuuri if anything went wrong.

“What is it you’re requiring of me then?” Wolfram asked.

“Not too much,” Gurrier said. “It’s a key position, but not one that puts you at much risk. I’ll find a way to separate Conrart from the group. And, when that happens I’ll approach the young lord king with a flier from the Colosseo, at which point you will corroborate a version of its reading that appeals to His Majesty’s sense of justice and passivism and his belief that death in this world can be merely incidental.” Gurrier’s expression had become quite serious, but it peeled back into a smile as he continued. “And if Your Excellency wishes to present this as a mere misunderstanding on your part, after the fact, I will have no complaints.”

“Then we’ve reached an accord,” Wolfram agreed. “I also have no complaints.”

Wolfram looked down at the one remaining card in his hand. The Queen of Hearts. Gurrier lifted up his empty hands with an indulgent shrug. Wolfram had been so distracted, he completely missed the final play of the game – Gurrier’s decision between the queen and the last of the other cards. He wondered if Gurrier had known which was which, had read the tells Wolfram didn’t know he had, and decided the outcome himself. Or if it really was just his own good luck.

Wolfram decided it didn’t matter. The card game was inconsequential. Wolfram was already winning the only game that mattered. He slouched down in his armchair, and smiled at Gurrier as he ran his fingers over the edge of the last card. For a moment they sat in complete and contented silence.

“We’re back!” Yuuri announced, as he barged into the room. Conrart followed behind him, carrying a bag of groceries that must’ve been breakfast.

“I didn’t even recognise half the vegetables at the market. Although everything was tasty, and the shopkeeper even game me free samples. They had a goat right in the middle of the store too that they milked. This place is even weirder than Shin Makoku,” Yuuri was babbling. “It was nice seeing the town, though. Although I still wonder if I tumbled into a Renaissance Fair, or the Live Action set for Sleeping Beauty. I’m certainly surrounded by enough bishounen princes, but I guess we don’t have a spinning wheel or a sleeping princess. You know what I mean, though... or I guess you don’t.” Yuuri let out a self-conscious laugh. “What have you two been up to?”

“If you want a spinning wheel you probably need to visit a textile mill,” Wolfram provided helpfully, and then harrumphed when Yuuri ignored him in favour of peering down to look over his shoulder. He didn’t like being ignored, even if it meant Yuuri’s adorable face hovering this close to his.

“Aww, Wolfram lost?” Yuuri pouted. “Well, I guess it’s hard to beat Miss Biceps. Josak’s a talented guy… But do your best Wolf~”

“What are you talking about?” Wolfram demanded. “We’re playing Old Maid! And I have the old maid! I won, didn’t I?!”

Yuuri cocked his head to the side. “But the old maid is, like, the booby prize. Unwanted, unneeded. You can’t pair her with any of the other cards.”

“What are you going on about?” Wolfram grimaced with second-hand embarrassment. How could one person be so ignorant? “Of course you’re meant to want her. A powerful, beautiful, and single queen. The whole point of the game is to get the old maid so you can marry her yourself in the end. Don’t you know anything?”

“I think the idea is she’s meant to be all washed up and past her prime,” Yuuri scratched his head.

“Well, even if you think so-” Wolfram conceded that this might be just another one of Yuuri’s weird Earth things, “-you probably should at least avoid saying something like that around Anissina. She might give you a long lecture if you keep talking about women like that.”

“Who?” Yuuri asked obliviously.

Gurrier cut in. “Well, you can’t deny that Lady Cäcilie is a beautiful old maid who anybody would be happy to marry~”

“That is true,” Yuuri said thoughtfully.

Conrart snorted a laugh.

“Cheater,” Wolfram huffed. “That is my mother you’re talking about. Can’t you at least choose someone outside my own family?”

“Well, I didn’t mean _I_ would marry her,” Yuuri corrected quickly. “There’s no way she would go for a guy like me anyhow.”

“I don’t think it really matters one way or the other.” Gurrier said, of which Wolfram was glad, until- “I’ve heard on the grape vine she already has some boyfriends in Shimaron lined up. Not to mention Lady von Rochefort.”

Wolfram flinched. The distastefulness of his mother’s romantic entanglements aside – while Gwendal and Conrart and himself were busy making sure Mother wasn’t being unduly influenced by Uncle Stoffel, could it be that Mother was being seduced by the interests of Lady von Rochefort or, worse, Shimaron, this whole this time?!

Best to shelve that concern until they were out of Van der Via.

“Well, if you go ahead and marry the old maid,” Yuuri pointed to the queen of hearts in Wolfram’s hand, “aren’t I freed up of the responsibility to be your fiancé?” He smiled weakly, like he knew this bad joke wasn’t going to cut it.

“Who said anything about that?” Wolfram crossed his arms and played along. “Even if I do go ahead and marry someone else, how is that going to absolve you of the responsibility of our engagement? You’re the one that proposed to me, you know? I’ll marry as many people as I want! And you too!” he announced. “But don’t flatter yourself, thinking that freedom goes the other way.”

“What?!” Yuuri squawked. His face pitched a deep red. “Who’s the cheater now?!” 

“You do have to admire His Excellency Wolfram a bit,” Gurrier said to Conrart in a stage whisper. “Even if he’s a hopeless guy who doesn’t know what he wants, he’s still not about to take no for an answer on anything, is he?”

Wolfram, in a refusal to acknowledge Gurrier’s gossip, kept his eyes fixed on Yuuri. “Wimp,” he coughed softly, as he flipped the Queen of Hearts onto the table.

 


End file.
